


That Which We Know

by stardropdream



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:19:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arm's length is too close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which We Know

**Author's Note:**

> First time ever writing Dragon Age and wow, there is a reason I don't write it. Written for practice based on prompts!

It is Hawke’s way, to somehow be both glib and impossibly frank, to shade his concern or uncertainty with his jokes and his sarcasm, and within the next moment be openly raw and vulnerable as he divulges some kind of hidden secret. A secret that, perhaps, is not so secret. 

Fenris finds himself ill prepared to operate this unknown landscape of Hawke’s relations with people – especially Hawke’s relations with Fenris specifically. Fenris is the loner, Fenris is used to moving on quickly, to leaving people far away from him (not even arm’s length, even arm’s length is far too close, far too vulnerable). But there is something about Hawke, who weasels his way through Fenris’ mind, that damn mage who strategically leaves Fenris behind on missions that could upset his long-held beliefs, that would make him tense with frustration, just as Hawke leaves the abomination behind for other such ends. 

Fenris knows little about relations, little about getting to know someone, very little. He tells himself he has little interest in Hawke, who is an apostate and a nuisance and a magic user, always one step away from being a liability. He is already a liability. And yet Fenris finds himself relaxing little by little whenever Hawke visits him at his mansion, cracks a joke about the peeling paint stained with thrown bottles of wine. Fenris finds himself looking forward to following Hawke through the Wounded Coast or wherever he takes them next. 

Fenris finds it refreshing, the way Hawke occasionally glances back to make sure Fenris and the others are still following, their eyes locking and Hawke grinning that lopsided, half-glib smile of his – the kind of smile that means he is thinking something he isn’t about to say, or perhaps is just waiting for the perfect moment to say it, and Fenris finds himself ill-prepared for it, ill-prepared to return this flirting, to return this sentiment, to let himself step ever-closer. 

And yet he follows him, unsophisticated and artless in the ways of understanding this unknowable human mage.


End file.
